


When the Clock Strikes Midnight

by kiss_me_cassie



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Cinderella Elements, F/M, First Meetings, Happy Ending, Mission Fic, More Like Grimm than Disney
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-09
Packaged: 2019-03-29 02:35:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13917564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiss_me_cassie/pseuds/kiss_me_cassie
Summary: A ball. A prince (sort of). A poor young girl (sort of). Lost slippers (and a knife). And a chance meeting that changes both of their lives.* no fairy godmother needed. this girl is gonna save herself.





	When the Clock Strikes Midnight

**Author's Note:**

> Crazy4Orcas is The. Best. Not only did she make the amazing collage which prompted this fic, but then she was also kind enough to beta as well. Love you, sweetie!

 

                        [](https://www.polyvore.com/furys_fairy_tales_cinderella/set?.svc=copypaste&id=149340385)

[Fury's Fairy Tales - Cinderella](https://www.polyvore.com/furys_fairy_tales_cinderella/set?.svc=copypaste&id=149340385) by [crazy4orcas](https://crazy4orcas.polyvore.com/?.svc=copypaste) on [Polyvore](https://www.polyvore.com/)

 

Clint glanced at the mission briefing, then looked questioningly at the man seated behind the desk. "What's my main objective?"

"Secure the data and neutralize the threat to the Grand Duke."

The archer cocked an eyebrow. "It's my understanding the Duke's not the nicest guy in the kingdom. You sure we want to play it that way?"

"It's in our best interests," the director said, an inscrutable expression on his face as he leaned forward. "I'm sure you understand."

Clint inclined his head, just the slightest. "What about the Black Widow?"

"What about her?" the director asked curiously.

Clint frowned and shifted impatiently. "I've been tailing her for the better part of six months. Historically, this is exactly the kind of party she'll show up at. Is she still one of my objectives?"

The director shrugged. "You have no further directives regarding the Black Widow."

Then he sat back and picked up another briefing missive, effectively ending the conversation.

Clint's mouth tightened. The message was clear: Get the job done and protect the Duke at all costs. And if that meant aiming an arrow at the Black Widow's heart, so be it.

\---

Natasha fixed the bow at the back of her cobalt blue gown then twisted around, turning this way and that so she could view it in the cracked and peeling mirror that stood in a broken frame in the corner.

Everything had to be just right this evening, down to the tiniest of details. If anything was amiss - anything at all - she risked failing the mission. And tonight of all nights, failure was not an option.

Squaring her shoulders, she went to work on her hair, arranging the artfully fashioned curls just so before affixing the jewel encrusted band in place.

There. She was ready.

A sudden sharp rap on the door alerted her to the time. With one last glance in the mirror, she slipped on her shoes and hurried to open the door.

Madam stood scowling on the other side, just as Natasha had expected her to be. "Natalia."

Natasha bobbed her head in deference. "Madam."

The woman reached out a bony hand and grasped Natasha's chin, turning her head left and then right as she inspected her. Natasha held carefully still throughout, not letting an iota of her revulsion show on her face.

Madam let go, then swept her gaze down Natasha's body.

Natasha held her breath and stood straight and still, unwilling to let Madam criticize her for even the smallest infraction. She couldn't afford it. Her life depended upon this night.

Reluctantly, Madam nodded in approval. "You'll do."

Natasha bobbed her head again, glad for the inspection to be over. "Thank you, Madam."

"Yelena and Petra are waiting in the coach. Hurry now and join them. You can't be late. Tonight is too important!" Madam exclaimed, shooing her towards the stairs none too gently.

"Yes, Madam," Natasha said, rushing down the stairs and outside to the waiting carriage.

Madam had gone all out for the evening. A footman stood at the ready beside the elaborate horse-drawn carriage, the dim light from the house glinting dully off the polished silver buttons of his uniform.

Yelena and Petra were already inside the coach. Yelena's dark pink gown was spread carefully around her; Petra's citrus green gown was crushed into the remaining space. Both women sneered as Natasha ducked her head and entered the coach, settling on the seat opposite them.

"I don't know why Madam insisted you attend as well, Natalia. Petra and I can handle this on our own. The Duke will be so smitten with us that there won't be any need for a secondary plan," Yelena boasted as the carriage began to move. "And make no mistake about it, Natalia, you are the back up plan."

Natasha remained stubbornly silent, staring out the window of the coach to avoid looking at Yelena's smug smile.

"It will be so easy to coerce him into bringing us to his rooms. And once we're there, stealing the information Madam wants will be so simple," Petra chortled. "Who knows? Maybe we'll even let him live when all is said and done."

Natasha listened to them prattle on, focusing upon her own plan, which was similar to theirs but had one vital difference. Her plan included securing the information for her own use rather than Madam's and ended with her traveling to Rome, where she had located a private buyer willing to pay a pretty penny for the information.

It had taken months and months of planning and she refused to let anything get in her way. Because once she received her payment, she would finally be free of Madam and the Red Room forever.

\---

Clint sipped his champagne and scanned the partygoers with sharp eyes, assessing each guest for any threat they might pose to the Duke. Most he rejected as harmless; some he classified as minor threats but not ones that he needed to worry about right now.

Then his gaze settled back on _her_.

He'd seen her enter the ballroom about thirty minutes before and had watched while she slowly made her way around the room to the Duke, whom she proceeded to charm with every weapon in her clever arsenal. She played to his ego, lightly touching his arm at every opportunity and hanging on his every word.

To anyone else her smiles appeared completely natural, but he knew better. While they'd been rare and fleeting, he'd seen her real smile before - while petting a stray cat in the alley, when tasting her first sip of coffee in the morning, as she tilted her face up to look at the stars. He knew what she looked like when she was truly happy.

Her smiles and laughter this evening were all an illusion. Every beguiling look and coquettish tilt of her head was a calculated move, made to entrance and entice the Duke.

His instincts had been right; the Black Widow was here to gain access to the same information he was.

She wasn't alone this time, though. She'd arrived with two other women. While they were both as beautiful and beguiling as she was, they lacked the same subtlety and grace that Natasha possessed and the Duke hardly paid any attention to them, much to their chagrin. Clint was confident they posed very little threat to the target.

Still, it wouldn't do to let them have free reign while he concentrated on Natasha.

Taking one last sip of his champagne, Clint repressed the urge to loosen his tight collar and signaled to Coulson up in the balcony. Coulson nodded, indicating that he was well aware of the other two operatives. Satisfied, Clint placed his glass on a passing waiter's tray and moved forward through the crowd toward the Duke and his entourage.

He was well acquainted with how beautiful Natasha was - it would be near impossible not to have noticed while trailing her across the continent - but tonight was the first time he'd been so near to her. In such close proximity, she took his breath away. Her slim figure was outlined to perfection beneath the blue gown she wore and her hair was artfully arranged to perfectly frame her heart shaped face. Her beauty was incomparable.

Clint narrowed his eyes.

He couldn't allow himself to get distracted by a pretty face. He had a mission to complete and the director had made it clear the Black Widow was no longer part of it. He wasn't here to follow her and determine if she needed killing or recruiting. He was here because of the Duke.

Clint waited patiently at the edge of the group for an opening and, when the Duke's attention was occupied by one of his advisors, finally made his move .

"Dance with me," he ordered, taking Natasha's hand and sweeping her out onto the dance floor just as a waltz was beginning.

She lowered her eyes demurely, for all intents and purposes a shy mouse afraid to be caught dancing with a strange man. "I'm not sure… The Duke…"

"Will be dead by midnight if you have your way, so I wouldn't worry too much about what he thinks," Clint said.

She stiffened in his arms and looked up at him defiantly, her chin tipped just so as she stopped in the middle of a step. "I don't wish to dance with you."

He didn't even pause, just grasped her tighter around the waist and picked her up, whirling her around in a turn, her voluminous skirts hiding the fact that her feet weren't even touching the floor. "It wasn't a request."

"I could kill you right here, right now, you know. You'd never even see it coming," she threatened, the hand on his shoulder snaking around to the back of his neck in a threatening manner. "Put. Me. Down."

"Nuh-uh, sweetheart. Too much chance you'll run away from me," he said, pulling her hand down and tucking it securely against his chest. "Besides, a messy kill on the dance floor isn't your M.O. You prefer to do your dirty work in the privacy of a bedroom. So how about you just tell me what you have in mind for the Duke?"

Natasha remained silent, her expression mulish.

"Not in a sharing mood? That's ok. I've got all night."

He swept her around in another turn.

"Put me down," she hissed into his ear.

"Only if you promise to dance," Clint said, gritting his teeth and ignoring how much being this close to her was affecting him. "You and I are in need of a little chat and it'll look better to the Duke if we're dancing than if I haul you off into a private room."

She smoothed her furious expression into one of acquiescence and nodded, and he set her back down on her feet, grateful to have a small bit of distance between them again. They resumed their dance, neither of them missing a single step.

"What do you want from me?" she asked.

"The plan, sweetheart."

Her eyes flashed angrily again.

"Who says I have one?" she countered.

"You and I both know I've had eyes on you for months now. You wouldn't be here if there weren't some kind of plan concerning the Duke."

She was quiet for a moment, worrying her lip as she contemplated how much to tell him. He pulled his eyes away from her lips and resolutely refused to think about how soft they looked or how it might feel to kiss her.

"I'm not the only one here regarding the Duke," Natasha finally said and he refocused his attention on their conversation.

"No, you're not. But you're the only one to capture the Duke's interest. In fact, he's glaring daggers at me right now," Clint observed, whirling her out into another spin before pulling her back in again.

"Is he?" she asked innocently, placing her hand back on his shoulder. "I hadn't noticed."

He snorted softly as he looped his arm around her waist and led her through another series of steps. "There are at least two others actively vying for the Duke's attention. Anyone else?"

She started to shake her head, but then her attention was caught by someone or something at the head of the grand staircase and her next step faltered. It was the first time he had seen her show even an ounce of nervousness. Clint followed her gaze to the balcony and found an older, sour-faced woman staring down at them with a disapproving frown.

"Your handler?" he asked, twirling her toward a section of the dance floor where it was harder to be seen from above.

"Yes," she whispered shakily. If he didn't know better, he would have said she was scared.

"My team already has eyes on the other two Widows," he assured her. "I'll make sure they get someone on her, too."

Natasha shook her head, clearly distressed. "You don't understand. It's not punishment from Madam which worries me. Her beatings are nothing compared to what the Red Room will do if they find me. At best, they'll wipe my memories. At worst…"

Clint swore. He'd heard rumors of what the Red Room did to their girls, but hearing her confirm it rocked him to his core. He released his hold on her hand, raising it to signal to Coulson, and she took advantage of his distraction to wrench away from him.

She fled, dashing through the ballroom. He gave chase, dodging party goers and waiters alike, almost losing her in the crowd but finally catching a glimpse of her bright hair and blue gown as she raced through the french doors that led to the stone terrace at the back of the manor.

When he finally reached the terrace, he was dismayed to realize she had gained a substantial lead on him. But he could still see a flash of her gown as she descended the stairs to the gardens below.

He followed but by the time he got there, she had disappeared.

Something shiny on the steps caught his eye, and he bent to take a closer look. A deadly knife lay on the stones, it's sharp steel blade catching what little moonlight there was. A few steps down sat a discarded slipper, it's mate only a few yards farther on the dewy grass.

Clint picked up the knife and then ambled down the steps to pick up the slippers as well.

He looked down at the footprints she'd left in the damp grass and followed them with his eyes to the path that led behind the carriage house.

For a brief moment, he considered following her, then changed his mind. Beyond the carriage house lay the woods, with a multitude of places for Natasha to hide on such a dark night. His time would be better put to use taking care of her handler and the other two operatives.

He flipped the knife in his hand.

She'd be back.

He could wait.

\---

Natasha stopped behind the carriage house, sinking to the ground and listening carefully for sounds of pursuit. There was nothing but the quiet nickers of the horses in the stable and the haunting call of a bird of prey from far up in the trees.

Somewhere in the distance, church bells rang out the hour. She counted the chimes. Midnight. Her chances of securing the information she needed were dwindling by the minute, and so was her chance of escape.

She sighed.

It had been impulsive and stupid to have run, but what else could she have done?

Losing her slippers and the knife had been even stupider. She still needed to gain access to the Duke's rooms. But getting to them meant climbing up to the second floor balcony and that feat would be hard enough to accomplish in her voluminous gown. Without her shoes, it would be nearly impossible.

Nearly, but not entirely.

Quickly, Natasha ran through the manor's floorplan in her head. If she entered through the library, there was a small chance she could make it to the back stairs without being seen by Clint or any of his people.

Bad enough SHIELD had been following her for all this time. She wasn't going to let them ruin this now, not when she'd come so close to achieving her objective.

She went over the floorplan again and decided that although going in via the library was risky, it was still her best option. Her only option. She refused to allow herself to get sent back to the Red Room.

Standing, she cautiously entered the stable and looked around for something to shear away a portion of her skirts. The less material she had hampering her movements, the better. She found a sharp blade used for working the horses' leather bridles and took it to the taffeta until she was down to one light layer of fabric.

Satisfied with her handiwork, Natasha tucked the blade into her bodice and carefully made her way back towards the manor house.

Getting up to the library window was fairly easy, as was prying the window open and climbing inside. Luck was with her and the room was empty. She let out a small breath of relief. So far, so good. She prayed the hallway would be unoccupied as well.

It wasn't.

There was an amorous couple at the far end, canoodling in an alcove beneath the stairs and so caught up in one another they'd never even notice her.

But the series of servers coming and going from the kitchen was another story. It would be impossible for them not to notice Natasha.

Quickly, she ducked back into the library and re-assessed the situation. Pulling one of the velvet curtains from the window, she fashioned it into a cape to cover her ruined gown. With any luck, she could play the part of a young lover going to meet her beau out in the garden.

It worked. The pair of women carrying serving trays who she met in the hallway gave her sly knowing looks but didn't say a word. As soon as they were gone, she made her way up the stairs and within a few minutes she was entering the Duke's suite.

The Duke wasn't there. Unfortunately, neither was the information she sought. Instead, there was a note pinned to the wall by an arrow.

_Sorry, Sweetheart, but the Duke and the information he holds have been moved to a secure location. The other two widows have been taken care of but your handler managed to evade our team. Watch your back. SHIELD won't try to follow you, but I can't promise no one else will._

__

__

_PS: Check the top drawer of the bureau._

Natasha crumpled the note as she tore it from it's anchor and cursed as she threw the note across the room.

He'd taken care of one problem, only to leave her with a completely new one.

Damn him.

\---

Clint caught up with her a couple of months later in a small city outside of Rome. Rumor had it that a mysterious redhead had started keeping company with the local consigliere, one who'd been known to have ties with assorted nefarious groups.

He had no doubt that woman was Natasha.

He spent a day or two getting a feel for the city before beginning his pursuit in earnest, silently tracking her one evening as she strolled along the main boulevard. Sensing his presence, she ducked into a small secluded alley and he followed.

She didn't turn immediately, but he knew he had seconds before she began a defensive attack. Pulling her knife from his belt, he threw it in warning, embedding it in the wall mere inches from her shoulder.

She stopped her in her tracks and whirled around, the hood of her cloak falling to her shoulders. She glared in his direction, all glorious red hair and fiery temper. "Are you trying to kill me or is this your charming way of saying hello?"

Clint shrugged. "Thought you might like your knife back."

She studied him silently for a moment, then reached around to wrench the knife free and slip it beneath the folds of her cloak.

He wondered what else she had concealed beneath the cloak, but figured it didn't really matter at this point. If she really wanted to kill him, she'd have made a move by now. Instead, she was contemplating him curiously. It boded well for the hair-brained scheme he'd come up with.

"I thought you promised SHIELD wouldn't follow me," Natasha finally said.

He nodded and took a step closer to her. "SHIELD didn't follow you. I did."

She rolled her eyes at him. "You _are_ SHIELD."

He took a few more steps towards her. "Yeah, but I'm not here in any official capacity. The Director took me off your assignment the night of the ball."

She was still giving him an inscrutable look. "Then why are you here? Trying to ruin another opportunity?"

Clint scrubbed a hand across the back of his neck. It had been a shitty thing to do, but there had been no other options. "Yeah, sorry about that."

Natasha shrugged. "It probably worked out for the best. The jewels you left in the Duke's room helped. My buyer didn't pay quite as much for them as he would have paid for the data, but he paid enough."

"Good. I'm glad they helped." He shifted awkwardly. "So what are you going to do now? A man like the consigliere isn't enough to hold your attention for long."

There was the hint of a smile on her face as she answered. "I don't know. Since SHIELD seems intent on interfering with all my plans, maybe I should become something more banal, like a housemaid or a washerwoman."

"Or maybe you could join us," Clint suggested, trying to keep the hope out of his voice. "Become one of the good guys."

Her eyes widened in surprise before she quickly masked her expression. "SHIELD?"

"Sure, why not? SHIELD isn't all glory and redemption - there's no happily ever after - but it's not bad. It's a good place for a second chance." He paused and held out his hand. He was close enough to touch her by now, but the decision was hers to make. He wouldn't force her. When she didn't say anything, simply continued to look at him with that oddly curious look, he asked again. "What do you say?"

Natasha hesitated for a moment before extending her own hand, resolve firm in her expression. "I say you have a deal."


End file.
